


Just Like Cats and Dogs

by stfustucky (iwillpaintasongforlou)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, cooking oil for lube, improper fire safety, subby lambert if you squint, they fuck, they wrestle, too many cat/dog jokes for one fic, what more could you ask for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25807960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillpaintasongforlou/pseuds/stfustucky
Summary: Lambert likes traveling with Aiden, even though he's batshit. He's the kind of crazy that fits Lambert's crazy, and Lambert likes that shit, alright? He likes Aiden. You know, in a friend way. Or whatever way has them fucking on this forest floor right now. That way is pretty good, too.(Aiden is pissed off about a shitty contract and has energy to work off. Lambert wasn't expecting this day to end with him on his back and Aiden naked in his lap, but he's rolling with it.)
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 298





	Just Like Cats and Dogs

**Author's Note:**

> There's not enough laiden in the world and I intend to fix that. Also, never writing anything other than LPOV ever again in my life because this was so much fucking fun.
> 
> Shoutout to the lovely Elizabeth, whose [Laiden spinoff fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25226134/chapters/61146202) of a [badass pornstar Jaskier bodyguard Geralt AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24419254/chapters/58911346) is my favorite thing about the planet earth right now. Thank you to Elizabeth and _you're welcome_ to all you clever peeps who are gonna go read it now.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

Geralt and Eskel like to tease Lambert for traveling with Aiden more often than not, but Geralt and Eskel can go fuck themselves.

Okay so technically, yeah, it’s a shitty setup. When they travel together they still pass through the same amount of towns, and still get offered the same amount of contracts, and still get paid the same amount of coin as Lambert would if he was by himself. And since there’s two of them, technically he makes half the coin he could on his own. When you look at it like that, it fucking sucks and Lambert should definitely tell Aiden to piss off. 

But fuck that shit, because Lambert  _ likes _ traveling with Aiden. First of all, he only has to do half the work because there’s two of them on every contract. Sometimes they’ll just switch off who actually does the job, or sometimes they’ll go in together on the bigger beasts and Lambert has someone at his back as he takes down an archgriffin. That’s rare, and it’s fuckin’  _ nice, _ okay? It’s nice to go into a contract knowing you won’t wind up dead in a swamp with no one ever knowing what happened to you except the necrophages that will eat your corpse. I mean, he might still wind up dead, but at least someone would be around to burn the medallion.

And anyways, second of all, he just likes Aiden. He’s the best man Lambert has ever met, even better than his brothers. He isn’t like the other Cats, who are all maniacs and killers for hire. He’s fuckin’ crazy, sure; his moods change on a dime and he cares too much about everything and he’s always looking for a fight, and traveling with him is exhausting. But if Aiden can put up with Lambert’s mouth and his penchant for poor decisions --he hardly ever brings up the time Lambert burned his eyebrows off playing with bombs-- then Lambert can return the favor and cut him a little slack when he has to be dragged out of a tavern for trying to get into a bar fight every other town they stop in.

Lambert has him by the scruff right now, in fact, hauling the Cat backwards through the tavern’s entrance and into the warm afternoon sun. He’s still in a fairly pleasant mood until he catches a very sharp elbow to the side, making him yelp. Cat armor is fuckin’  _ pointy. _ “Hey, watch it, will you? I’m not the one you want to disembowel here.”

“He’d  _ deserve _ it,” Aiden hisses, though he does stop his failing and brush his hand over Lambert’s ribs in a vague apology. Lambert releases the back of Aiden’s armor hesitantly, waiting to see if he’ll go zooming off to the tavern again, but he seems content to merely sulk about it now and continues to walk away by Lambert’s side of his own free will. “He’s a cheat, and a bastard, and his ale tastes like piss!”

“I’ve tasted better piss,” Lambert says sagely.

It makes Aiden laugh, just as Lambert had hoped, and the abrupt shift from fury to mirth might have given Lambert whiplash if he wasn’t so desensitized to his friend’s nature. “You probably have, you degenerate. Is that what you Wolves get up to all winter in your creepy castle?”

“Nah. We’re usually occupied with  _ other _ degenerate activities.”

They’ve reached the woods outside of town, on their way to where they’d made camp, but the tangle of roots and rocks don’t interfere with Aiden’s grace as he moves to walk backwards in front of Lambert. His expression is ravenously curious now as he looks Lambert over. “What, are you serious? You don’t smell like you’re lying. Leave it to the school of the dog to have puppy piles when no one is looking.”

Lambert  _ isn’t _ lying --what? Kaer Morhen winters are  _ cold, _ okay? Fuck off-- but he doesn’t give Aiden the satisfaction of confirmation. He shoves at Aiden until the other witcher laughs and returns to walking by Lambert’s side once more. “Don’t be jealous just because you had to be picked up by the fuckin’ school of the pussy. Someone’s got to be on the bottom of the food chain, after all.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about the food chain when you wake up to my knife in your-- hey, don’t try to distract me,” Aiden breaks off, face sour once more. “I’m not done being mad about that stupid alderman yet.”

_ So close. _ “Great, more hissy fit. Fuckin’ delight. Any idea when you  _ will _ be done?”

“When that whoreson pays us the full amount on the  _ written, posted _ contract he put on the notice board,” Aiden says hotly. “Why do people think they can short us on contracts, like we’re not an absolutely necessary service that they wouldn’t be able to survive without? Does that idiot know how to take down a wyvern? More importantly, does that idiot know squishy the abdomen is that protects all of his vital organs from my sword? It drives me--”

“Crazy?” suggests Lambert with a snort. “C’mon, how many goddamn times have we been through this? Yeah, he’s wrong, but you can’t pick a fight with a man in an inn that  _ he _ owns, full of a bunch of people that have bad attitudes towards witchers and a never-ending supply of pitchforks.”

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do,” Aiden sulks. “It wouldn’t take but a second to put him in his place. I wouldn’t even have to go for his belly. I could aim lower. Bet he wouldn’t think about cheating another witcher if I just gave him a little--” 

Suddenly a dagger goes whizzing through the air before them, turning end over end to embed itself, perfectly level and vibrating with force, into the trunk of a tree twenty paces in front of them. Along the way it has managed to spear a perfectly innocent leaf and pin it there mercilessly. Lambert hadn’t even seen Aiden draw his weapon. Fuckin’  _ Cats,  _ man.

“Sounds messy,” he says, clapping a hand on Aiden’s shoulder sympathetically, though with an air of finality. “Get over it, you dumb prick. We’ll sneak back into town before dawn tomorrow and let all of his goats out of the pen on our way out of town. And the next time something tries to eat his mistress, we’ll let it.”

“I still think you should have let me at him.”

“You’re not that good of a fighter, pussycat. Five hundred townsfolk against two witchers are shitty odds.” They’ve reached their camp, and Lambert is so busy making sure nobody fucked with his horse while they were gone that he doesn’t notice Aiden stopping until he looks up a minute later and sees him just staring at him. “What? Something on my face besides a whole lotta handsome?”

“Two witchers,” Aiden echoes. “You’d fight with me?”

“Don’t ask stupid fuckin’ questions,” replies Lambert, because of course he would.

That seems to make Aiden happy --stupid Cats, always with the emotions-- but it doesn’t stop him from pouting for an hour straight. Their bruises and scrapes have been tended, their armor and weapons cleaned, and the fire that will cook the game from Lambert’s snare has been coaxed into life, and yet Aiden is still stomping his way around the little clearing some more. For the most part, Lambert just ignores it. Eventually the storm will blow itself out, and then they can cook some rabbit and play some Gwent and argue about which town to head for next. 

He’s squatting by his saddlebags digging through the various parcels for some herbs that will help their dinner taste less like shit when Aiden suddenly bursts from his seat on a fallen log to start pacing manically around once again. The movement is so unexpected that it startles Lambert enough to make him fall back on his ass, and now he’s embarrassed and his ass hurts and Aiden kind of looks like he wants to laugh at him even when Lambert gives him his best snarl, and that’s annoying.

“You need to fuckin’ relax,” Lambert grumbles, rifling through the bag once more, pushing aside the nightshade in search of the thyme. He  _ ought _ to flavor Aiden’s food with that, just to get him to be still. “Sit down somewhere before I hamstring you.”

“I can’t, I’m all fired up,” whines Aiden, pacing even faster. “You wouldn’t let me punch anyone. Now my blood’s pumping and there’s nothing to  _ do.  _ It’s your fault I can’t relax.”

That… might technically be true. He’d probably be sprawled in a sunbeam napping by now if Lambert had let him have a brawl like he wanted. It’ll be a while before the food is done; maybe if they spar a little bit while the rabbit cooks, Aiden will be able to sit the fuck down while he eats it. “You wanna work off some of that energy with me?” he says, sprinkling the herbs onto the spitted meat and dusting off his palms as he stands. 

It’s a testament to how goddamn fast Cats are when they want to be that even Lambert’s witcher reflexes can’t save him in time when Aiden launches himself at Lambert with a, “Fuck yeah I do.” He has just enough time to think,  _ guess that answers the question of hand-to-hand or armed, _ before Aiden is on him, tackling him back until his arse is in the dirt once more. 

It takes him another two seconds after that to process that Aiden isn’t attacking him, he’s fuckin’  _ kissing him. _

Lambert’s sitting in the dirt, and Aiden is in his lap facing him with his knees on either side of him, straddling Lambert’s lap. One of his hands is clutching at Lambert’s shoulder and the other is at the back of his neck, cradling his head, tilting it up so that Aiden has access to Lambert’s mouth. Which he’s kissing. With  _ his _ mouth. And there’s  _ tongue. _

He kisses back, because what the hell else are you supposed to do when your best friend kisses you? Aiden’s lips are soft and demanding, and his little nips at Lambert’s tongue are very distracting. The moment he has some attention to spare, however, he pulls back to ask, “What the fuck?” Because seriously,  _ what the fuck. _

“Well  _ excuse me _ for being overenthusiastic,” Aiden complains, and this time when he bites at Lambert’s lip it’s with a little more force behind it. “I’ve been waiting years for you to suggest we fuck.”

“Fuck?” echoes Lambert in confusion. “Wait,  _ years?” _

At last Aiden pauses, leaning back to look at Lambert’s face. “You… you said you wanted to work off some energy with me.”

“I meant like sparring. Beating the shit out of each other. Maybe use swords. The steel kind, not…  _ that _ kind,” Lambert finishes, pointing at the bulge in the front of Aiden’s trousers.

The way Aiden has himself wrapped around Lambert, he can feel the man’s whole body go rigid with tension. “Great, and now I’ve made an idiot of myself. Sorry, this was a mistake, I’ll--”

He goes to get up, quick and fluid, and Lambert has to yank hard at his shirt to get him to sit back down. He hears fabric rip in the process but at least it works, and Lambert grabs firmly at Aiden’s hips to prevent any future escapes. “Hey, slow down. First of all, I already knew you were an idiot, so you didn’t give away any secrets.”

“Watch it,” Aiden warns, and yeah, maybe Lambert shouldn’t piss off a man with such immediate access to his family jewels. 

“Second of all, just because it wasn’t my idea doesn’t mean it isn’t a good one, kitten,” continues Lambert. And then, because he has no sense of self-preservation, he continues, “Even a halfwit like you is bound to say something smart once in a damn while. If you want me to fuck you, all you had to do was ask.”

They’re moving again, or at least Lambert is, being shoved flat on his back in the dirt by a palm strike to the breastbone. Aiden leans in and pins him at the shoulder, grinding his hips down so that Lambert can feel how hard he is. Lambert’s own cock is starting to get on board with this plan, too. “Who says I’m going to let you fuck me?” Aiden purrs.

It’s a shitty pin though, and it’s almost too easy for him to buck his hips up to throw Aiden off balance, trap one of Aiden’s legs with his own, and roll them over with a grunt. “So you just assumed I was going to stick my arse in the air for you, then? You even packing enough to make it worth my while?”

“Oh, fuck you!” Aiden laughs. “My sword is bigger than yours, that’s for certain!”

“Fat chance of that, you little--”

It devolves into a wrestling match of sorts, a series of pins and rolls and scuffles punctuated only by playful insults and articles of clothing that are tugged or torn from their bodies. They’re down to smallclothes by the time they stop, and only then it’s because they’ve rolled perilously close to the fire and both of them freeze up with the primal instinct to avoid  _ that _ level of pain.

Lambert is on top again, with his hands pinning Aiden’s to the dirt above his head, faces inches apart. He could count the individual eyelashes that flutter when he rolls his hips down into Aiden’s. If he wanted to, anyways. Which he doesn’t.

“Compromise,” Aiden offers breathlessly. “I’ll let you fuck me, but I get to be on top.”

Apparently Aiden doesn’t understand what a fuckin’ compromise is, because Lambert is definitely coming out ahead in this deal. He can hardly believe his luck. He gets to get his dick wet  _ and _ he gets to lay back and be lazy about it? Cats are so fuckin’ stupid.

“Yeah, I guess that’s alright,” he says, rolling over onto his back one last time, away from the fire, and folding his hands behind his head. “Got some oil in my bag that’ll work.”

“Ought to make you fetch it, pillow princess.”

“And yet you’re already halfway there. Slutty much?”

He doesn’t get to talk much after that, because he’s too busy getting kissed some more. Aiden retrieves the oil --which is cooking oil that probably isn’t intended to go in his ass, but neither is Lambert’s dick so whatever-- and starts opening himself up with it. Lambert runs his hands all over the freshly-naked witcher in his lap while he works, because he’s not a jerk. He knows how to do foreplay and stuff. 

Aiden seems to like it, anyways, because he’s dripping all over Lambert’s stomach. Hell, Lambert likes it too, even though technically his dick isn’t getting any attention right now. It still feels nice just to touch Aiden. His body is strong, shaped a little leaner than Lambert’s, but their scars feel the same. He wonders if he were to sit there for long enough and trace them with his fingers if he could guess what monsters they came from. He wonders if Aiden would let him.

When Aiden grabs hold of his cock and starts lowering down onto it, he doesn’t ask Lambert first. Which is fine, not like Lambert is gonna tell him  _ not _ to sit on his dick, but like, he could have used a little warning. So he could take a deep breath or something. Especially since Aiden is fuckin’  _ tight, _ and Lambert kind of wants to come right then and there, and then Aiden would never fuckin’ shut up about it.

It doesn’t take him very long to start actually riding him, either. No time for adjustment, even though it has to be at least a little uncomfortable. Lambert has fucked a couple of guys before, usually when he goes to a brothel and all the girls are too chickenshit to have a witcher for a client, so he knows how this usually goes. Aiden doesn’t even look like he’s phased by the stretch. He just leans forward and braces his hands on Lambert’s shoulders and goes for it, rising and falling in a steady rhythm that kind of feels like a punch to the gut. Maybe this really is sparring after all, shit. 

Except for the fact that Lambert really,  _ really _ doesn’t want to fight back. He’s good right where he is. He’s got his hands on Aiden, and Aiden on his cock, and where the fuck else would he want to be? His only complaint is that with the Cat upright in his lap he’s too far away for Lambert to kiss anymore, and that leaves room for stupid needy sounds to come out of Lambert’s mouth, which is honestly just embarrassing. He fixes that by reaching up and grabbing a handful of Aiden’s hair to pull his mouth down for more.

The change in position must feel good or something, because  _ Melitele’s cunt _ does Aiden go feral. He starts moving even faster on Lambert’s cock, the thrusts shallow and frantic as his own cock gets rubbed between their bellies. That feels fuckin’ amazing, especially when it’s paired with the way that Aiden digs his fingernails into the skin on Lambert’s chest and drags them down, fresh claw marks decorating his torso as Aiden keeps right on doing what he’s doing.

“Shit, you really are like a fuckin’ cat,” Lambert pants when he has to pull back for air. He didn’t realize he’d need a dose of goddamn Killer Whale to increase his lung capacity just to fuck Aiden. “What am I, your scratching post?”

“At least one of us is being true to form,” Aiden shoots back, cool and confident even though his voice cracks somewhere in the middle as Lambert’s cock hits somewhere nice inside of him. “Never seen a wolf so eager to roll over and show his belly.”

And it’s not like Lambert can just let him say that, even though he knows he’s being teased and that Aiden is just trying to piss him off. He can’t just lay there and take that, so he wraps an arm securely around Aiden’s waist, sits them both up, and then keeps the momentum going until Aiden’s back is thudding into the dirt and Lambert has control of the pace now. He takes advantage of the surprise and hauls one of Aiden’s thighs onto his shoulder, so that the next time Lambert pulls his cock out and slams it back in, the man beneath him yowls in pleasure.

Lambert can feel a bead of sweat running down the side of his face when he leans in to kiss Aiden, aware that he’s folding him damn near in half to do it. Whatever, Cats are always bragging about how flexible they are, he can take it. Aiden doesn’t protest, just tightens around Lambert with a groan and wraps his free leg around the small of Lambert’s back. Lambert doesn’t let that stop him from continuing to pound into him exactly the way he wants to. 

“You almost done?” he asks Aiden, and it doesn’t come out as prickly and unaffected as he wanted it to. It sounds like he’s begging, which he  _ isn’t. _ Lambert doesn’t beg.

The slip in his tone of voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Aiden, whose eyes open up enough for him to glare fiercely up at Lambert. “Don’t you dare blow your load before you get me off, you inconsiderate prick. What kind of manners do they teach you in Kaer Morhen?”

“They teach us to handle our own problems,” Lambert snorts, biting at the meat of Aiden’s shoulder just to make him squirm. “Keep talking shit, and I’ll come inside you and then pull out and leave your balls blue.”

“You won’t do that to me.”

“Fuckin’ try me.”

Aiden’s hand reaches up and grabs Lambert’s chin, wrenching his head back and holding him there in a tight grip so that he can stare Lambert down, eyes flashing with a hint of danger. Something about his gaze makes the Wolf feel like he can’t look away from him. “You  _ won’t,”  _ he repeats lowly, an order and a threat.

Lambert swallows hard and reaches down to start stroking Aiden’s cock as he fucks him, but not because anyone told him to. He just wants to, that’s all. 

When Aiden comes, loud and passionate the way that everything he does tends to be, he drags Lambert over the edge with him. Lambert is aware, dimly, that his teeth are sinking into the soft skin at the base of Aiden’s throat, and that it probably hurts like a bitch, but he doesn’t really give a shit. Aiden is groaning his name and the pulse of his cock is in a weird opposite tempo of Lambert’s in a way that’s really working for him and he already knows those claws have shredded his back by now and he kind of likes the thought of that.

Eventually Aiden stills, and Lambert stills, and mentally budgets himself thirty seconds to stay like that on top of Aiden before he’ll make himself pull out. Aiden rubs his palm up and down Lambert’s side, slowly, gently, and sixty seconds more of this can’t hurt. He has to get up when Aiden starts purring though, because otherwise the vibration of his chest will put him to sleep and Aiden probably wouldn’t like that. It feels like a monumental effort to collapse in the dirt next to him instead, but somehow Lambert manages it.

Their hands are laying side by side on the ground, not holding or anything weird, just Lambert’s knuckles resting against Aiden’s. He can feel one of Aiden’s fingers twitch before he speaks. “You’re a dick.”

“Yeah,” Lambert says with a grin, “but you knew that already.”

“Yeah.”

A few more minutes of the two of them laying there, catching their breath, stretching out muscles that have been straining in new ways, and then Lambert pushes himself up into a sitting position. He really ought to check on dinner, make sure it didn’t start drying out while they were doing… whatever that was. The thought reminds him of how they got into this situation in the first place, and he looks over his shoulder at Aiden. “You feel better now?”

Aiden stretches his whole body at once, one long line of muscle that tenses and then relaxes, melting back into his original position one more. His face is contemplative. “Not sure yet. Had a lot of feelings to work through, there. Check back with me again in five.”

Can’t be that many emotions if he’s going to fix his shit that quickly. “That’s all you need, drama queen? Five minutes?”

Aiden’s teeth flash white and dangerous when he smiles. “Five rounds.”

On second thought, the rabbits can fuckin’ burn.

**Author's Note:**

> stfustucky | tumblr  
> stfustucky | twitter  
> Charlie Stfustucky#3055 | discord


End file.
